by Mia Carson
“What are you talking about?”
“This crap you’re pulling with Creed? It’s not legal. I can fire your ass so fast no other firm will ever look at you.”
I gaped at him. “You told me to do it!”
He pulled back, regarding me like I’d spat on him. “I never told you to marry the guy. That part was all you.”
“But the rest of it—”
“You girls wanted to go to Las Vegas after your lying boyfriend dumped you. I was trying to do you a solid.”
I dumped him! “I submitted all my receipts and got reimbursed—”
Cold steel glinted in his eyes. “I have no record of that.”
I opened my mouth. Closed it. I had no contract with Scott either, nothing to say he’d pay me what he said he was going to. I couldn’t lose my job until I had the money from him. Credit agencies were breathing down my neck already. One of my cards had gone to collections. No matter the posh penthouse I lived in, I needed this job.
“Take the time off. Go on your boat trip, and wreck this merger.”
“I don’t think I—”
“If you walk in this office and the merger is still on, I’ll have your ass for fraud, Taylor.” My ears were ringing, and the room seemed cold. I was parched, my mouth paper-dry. “You understand?”
“Yes,” I squeaked, hating myself. I saw myself out. Didn’t even stop at my desk, just headed out to the car and back to Scott’s palatial, empty apartment.
###
I didn’t see Scott again until we left for the docks on Friday morning. I was still upset from my talk with Mr. Fallon. I didn’t know what to do.
“You have your passport?” Scott didn’t look up from his phone.
Chill dread knifed down my spine. Passport? “Where are we going?”
“Mexico.” Scott didn’t look up.
“What?”
Now he did. Apparently the expression on my face made him set the phone down. “Are you okay?”
“Scott… I’ve never been out of the country. I don’t have a passport.” God, I felt so stupid. A little country mouse.
His eyebrows went up as if I’d said I didn’t know how to read or I’d never graduated high school. “That’s alright,” he replied, but I could tell he was thinking.
“How is it alright? Tell me about this trip!”
“We’re going to the airport now, flying to Cancun, spending a night in Cozumel, then heading to the marina where Percival keeps his yacht. He wants to go through the Panama Canal, then we’ll basically go until he gets tired of us. He’s got a habit of kicking passengers off wherever.”
I gaped at him. “I brought, like, sweaters. I thought we were going out of Long Island or something.”
“I’m so sorry.” The way he gaped at me told me he was sincere. It would almost have been better if he’d been condescending. He put a hand to his temple. “I forget you’ve never done this before. I wasn’t thinking.”
Everything was ruined because of me. We couldn’t fly to Mexico. We couldn’t do any of it. Mr. Fallon had gotten his wish, and I hadn’t even tried. I started to cry, feeling stupid and small. It wasn’t just about the passport or about Mr. Fallon. The weight of everything crashed down on my head, and I lost it. I dropped my face in my hands and sobbed.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Kenz, it’s okay. I can get your passport expedited. We’re not going to hit Cancun for five or six hours. They’ll have the document waiting for us when we get there.”
I shook my head and marveled at his nonchalance. How was this not a big deal for him? I couldn’t fathom a world where I just bounced out of America at a moment’s notice. Neither of my parents had ever left the country. My brother Brian went to a hockey game in Montreal once, back before you needed a passport to cross the border. My mother had never even flown on a plane before.
“Hey, it’s okay.”
Scott scooped me up in his arms, and I melted into him. I tried to remind myself that this was all a lie, that he was bribing me to be here with him. That we shared nothing. But his arms felt so good, and his voice was soft. He rested his chin on the top of my head, and against my better judgement, I nuzzled into his chest.
“You must think I’m pathetic.”
“Pathetic? Why?”
“I don’t have a passport. I thought we were going out in the New York harbor. I had no idea…”
“That doesn’t make you pathetic at all.” He sounded like he meant it. “Hey look,” Scott pulled us apart so he could look at my face. I wiped furiously at my makeup—my mascara must be running. I must look like a fool on top of everything else. “Let’s make a deal, okay?”
“Another deal?” My voice shook.
“Let’s just enjoy each other’s company this week. Pretend it’s a real thing. Try and have a good time.”
I wanted to come back at him with a smart-ass remark to remind him how that would work out really well for him, convincing Hall we were a married couple. But I didn’t have the energy to fight. It was easier—so much easier—to acquiesce and be here with him, to remember that one night in Vegas when we’d actually liked each other. I gave up and nodded, cuddling close to him. He kissed the top of my head, smoothed the hair away from my face, and handed me a silk handkerchief from his jeans pocket.
Scott
I tried to understand why she was so upset. It really wasn’t a big deal to expedite the passport. Expensive, yes, and inconvenient, but not for us. Some folks in the Cancun office would be running around like crazy, but we’d just pick up the document at the airport. I was sure we’d have it in hand by the time we landed in Mexico. Unless Mackenzie had some serious skeletons in her closet.
I looked down at her, miserable and crumpled against me. That seemed impossible but might be kind of hot. I pushed the thought away. For once, I wasn’t turned on by her. I just wanted to make her feel better, wanted to make her happy. I squeezed her, and she cuddled up a little more.
“I promise everything will be okay,” I told the bowed back of her head.
With my free hand, I texted Ryan, and he got the ball rolling. I ignored his texted comment asking what self-respecting adult didn’t have a passport. He sent over the forms she had to sign—we did all of it on the iPad—and I snapped a reluctant photo of her. She spent a long time with a mirror dabbing at her eyes. I tried to tell her a hundred times she looked fine. It was physically impossible for her not to be gorgeous.
“It’s okay. Everyone’s passport picture sucks.”
I sent the photo. All was done and in Ryan’s hands before they had the Bombardier ready for us to board.
“So here’s the other thing.” She sat next to me in the cushy seats of the cabin. I’d expected her to sit across the aisle, facing me, or somewhere else out of reach. But no, she was right by my side. I liked her there. “I didn’t bring any kind of beach clothes. Like, none.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t communicate better about where we were going. I know it’s not an excuse, but I was in Chicago for that big meeting, and honestly I’m not used to having to explain myself or be accountable to anyone. What are your measurements?” She gave me a blank look. “I’m going to have a shopper outfit you. You’ll be good to go by the time we touch down.”
“You can do that?”
I didn’t laugh at her, though I wanted to. She really didn’t understand that enough money could literally get you anything.
“What if I don’t like what she picks?”
“I think you will, because that is her job, and shoppers have really good taste. If you really don’t, you’ll just have to parade around on Percival’s yacht naked the whole time.”
She burst out laughing. “That’s a really sexy image, until you factor Percival and Anne into the mix.”
I laughed too because she was exactly right. I didn’t especially want to be in the buff around either of them. She visibly relaxed. “We can hit some stores when we land as well. Though I want to take you to the ruins at Tulum at some point
.”
“What’s that?” I could see she thought the question made her look stupid.
“Mayan pyramids on the beach. It’s beautiful. I really think you’ll like them.”
“Is there anything else I can do to help? I feel like I’ve screwed up your whole morning.”
“My whole morning is sitting on a plane going to Mexico. Not much here to screw up. You’ve seemed really down all morning. Can I help you? Are you okay?”
She opened her mouth, and for a moment I thought she was going to open up and be real with me. Then she closed it, made her mouth into a flat line, and said she was okay.
“I know there’s a lot going on right now, and I’m probably not helping with most of it, but if there’s anything I can do to help, I’m here for you.” I meant it, too.
She turned her blue eyes on me, and I really felt like she heard me. “Thanks.”
We landed in Cancun a few hours later. Two suitcases waited for us filled with Mackenzie’s new wardrobe. Someone’s assistant handed us an envelope containing her brand new passport, which still smelled like ink. I flipped it open before handing it to her.
“Iowa?” I asked.
“I moved to New York three years ago.”
“Your picture looks beautiful.” I held the passport up over her head, and she reached for it, swatting at me. She did look beautiful, a little wilder than she liked to look, with her long brown hair mussed a bit. You couldn’t tell she’d been crying. I handed her the passport.
The other thing waiting for us on the tarmac was a gun-metal grey Bugatti Chiron. The suitcases wouldn’t fit, but that was fine, I’d hired someone to take them to the resort where we’d be meeting the Halls and spending the night. Customs took about five minutes and didn’t even blink at the freshly-minted document. My money meant I could get away with a lot here, though I generally didn’t. Not usually.
I opened the car door for Mackenzie and helped her inside. “We’ll head to the resort, get cleaned up, and go exploring before dinner. Sound good?”
“Whatever you say, babe.”
I closed the door and hurried to my side. I couldn’t tell if she were humoring me or if I’d just heard genuine affection in her voice. Either way, I liked it when she called me babe.
My assistant booked us one of the corner suites with a private balcony overlooking the rocky coast. Aquamarine water slammed into volcanic rock. A private hot tub bubbled in welcome. Four chaise lounges sat arranged around a cold fire pit.
I waited outside while Mackenzie changed. I don’t know if she realized it or not, but the way the mirrors were aligned, I could see everything. I watched her shrug out of her jeans and pull off her light sweater. She studied herself in the mirror, turning this way and that, examining her tummy and pushing up her breasts.
“They’re not saggy, they’re amazing,” I whispered. She took off her bra, and a shaft of sunlight arcing into the bedroom made the white of her skin glow brilliant, the dark tips of her nipples standing out in contrast.
The fit of my pants changed dramatically. I moved in my seat, and the motion attracted her attention. She met my gaze, and I beckoned to her with one finger. The balconies were arranged in such a way that no one could see onto them unless they were climbing around on the sharp rocks. It was totally private.
She reached for a shirt, and I shook my head no. I summoned her again, more adamant this time.
Tentatively, she walked to me, stepping out onto the smooth wood floor of the balcony in bare feet. She wrapped her arms around me. I pushed her hair aside. “Don’t make me tell you twice.” My breath was hot in her ear, and she shivered with excitement.
“I’m sorry,” she said.
“I should punish you.”
She pulled away and pouted like a little girl. “I’m a bad girl.”
“I think you need to be spanked. Do you want to be spanked?”
She paused and looked at me with her eyes wide. “Yes.” Her voice was a mouse squeak.
“You sure?” Again, I didn’t quite trust the bob of her head. “I don’t have to.”
“No, no, I want you to.”
Okay, now she seemed a little more excited, but I didn’t want to feel like I was coercing her into anything. “Remember, lilacs.”
Her face went blank a moment as she groped for context. Then she remembered and nodded. “Lilacs. If you’re too rough. If I feel scared.”
I kissed her, hungry for her. But first things first. Bad girls needed to be punished. I led her to the chaise lounge on the balcony and left her there for a moment so I could look at her body. She was so pliable, willing to do anything I asked. At my behest, she climbed on the chair and waited on her hands and knees. The sun shone on her plain white cotton panties. If I touched her intimate area, I’d find her soaked. I stroked her gorgeous ass, feeling the skin and the soft fabric.
“No more panties until we’re back in New York.”
“Whatever you say,” she murmured.
The anticipation as I caressed her drove us both mad. I ran my hand over her skin almost lazily. Then I smacked her as hard as I could, leaving a red hand print on her white skin. She let out a gasping cry. I kissed the red mark and continued the gentle touches. I wanted to make her wait for it. She adjusted her body, spreading her legs a bit. I caught her scent, which in no way spoke ill of her hygiene. She was like a drug, intoxicating. I pushed the seat of her panties to the center, exposing her cheeks to the tropical air. Kissed them. Then… wham! Another slap.
She moaned with pleasure. “Please.”
“Patience.”
I stroked her slit through her underwear. Just as I’d expected, she was practically dripping. Oh God, there were so many things I could do with her, to her, in this beautiful setting. I pulled my shirt over my head. I kicked off my jeans, setting my cock free in the afternoon light. I moved to the side of the chaise and shoved it in her face like I’d been fantasizing about since we’d left the bathroom at the art gallery.
Mackenzie did not disappoint. Without using her hands, she took me into her mouth and devoured me. She ate me like an ice cream cone, swirling her tongue around my shaft, hungry for my seed. I wrapped my hands in her hair and fucked the back of her throat.
Mackenzie
I never would have let Lucas do this to me. Never with the spanking, never so rough in my mouth, almost gagging me. But lilacs. I could say the word and he would stop, which erased all my worries. I knew a little bit about BDSM—Lucas thought it was gross so I’d never pursued it. My eyes watered, but I let Scott go until he sprayed the back of my throat with his hot batter. I swallowed it and licked him clean. I was shaking with anticipation for later.
Scott looked at his watch, the only thing he wore.
“We have to go meet the Halls.”
“You’re kidding.”
He smirked dangerously. “Nope.”
“Come on!”
“Think of how good it’ll be later. The anticipation is half the fun.”
“Getting off is the other half of the fun,” I moaned. I stood on the chaise and wrapped my arms around him, smushing my boobs in his face. He bit my nipple—hard—and I groaned.
“We have about five minutes. Go get dressed. And remember, no underwear.”
“I can get dressed in three minutes.” I winked at him.
Scott sighed dramatically. “You’re pretty bossy for a submissive.”
“I think they call it, ‘power bottom?’” Obviously, Scott was dominant in our relationship in and out of the sack, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t offer suggestions.
“Panties off. Then lie down on your back.”
I did, trembling with excitement. The underwear dropped to the floor by his jeans. I lay on the chaise, feeling the sun on my winter-pale skin, and stared up at the beautiful blue sky.
Scott checked his watch again, smiled at me, and lowered his face to my pussy. After a few licks, he lay down next to me. His fingers pushed into me. Oh! All of them. Gentle
pressure, slippery and hot with my juices.
“I’ll stop if it hurts.”
I shook my head. It didn’t hurt. He moved slowly, and my relaxed, sun-drenched body eased open to let him inside. I’d never felt anything like it. My heart pounded, and my stretched muscles fluttered around him. I looked into his eyes, happy to surrender to him. His to be used.
We were going to be late meeting the Halls.
Oh, there, ouch—too much. I squeaked, and he stopped. I was so close. I wanted him so badly, but we needed to work our way up to the whole fist. He pulled himself free and returned with three fingers.
At first I was disappointed, but a thumb on my clit and his pinky up my ass pushed the disappointment out of my mind. He thrust into me, stroking with the pads of his fingers, and I had so much pent-up sexual craziness that I came on his hand almost immediately. He massaged my G-spot as I came. After my orgasm subsided, he slapped my ass and told me to hurry it up. I lay on my back in the sun, catching my breath, while he headed into the room to change.
What a day. Now I had to pretend to be wifey for him. I could do that. Without panties.
###
It didn’t take long to throw a dress on. Scott checked to make sure I’d been true to my word, delighted to find I wasn’t wearing anything underneath.
“When we get back here,” he promised, “I’m going to destroy you.”
“Please,” I whispered back.
We looked all sorts of prim and proper when we walked out to the bar. It overlooked the sparsely populated, guests-only beach. A few kids played in the surf, and some adults sunbathed.
Percival and Anne sat at a table for six, each staring at their smart phones. Anne set hers down and welcomed us warmly. Percival glanced up, nodded, and returned to whatever he was looking at. We ordered drinks and exchanged the normal small talk about the flight down, the weather, etc. They pointed out the Nomisma, moored a few hundred yards offshore.
The boat was nothing like I’d imagined. For whatever reason, when I thought yacht I thought sailboat. This was… not that. The thing was probably the size of six RVs piled in a triangle – a white, sleek thing that stank of money. Holy crap.